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At the door-step of Joseph’s home knelt the Wise Man 





►1 






Copyright, 1916, by 

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 


New York; 158 Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave. 
Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W. 
London: 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street 

'’Cn2l9l6 

#t» 





'CI.A 44513 U 


The Lost Star 


T he learned Tistraya had journeyed far 
with the other Wise Men. In one long 
sinuous caravan they had crossed the 
uplands of Persia, climbed the rocky 
rampart between east and west, descended the 
winding way through the foothills to the broad 
green plain of the Great Eivers. Here, where 
the yellow flood of Tigris swept by, he had left 
the others ; and while a slow-moving raft ferried 
them across, he and his slave Selim had turned 
northward. A solitary driver behind them led 
the few pack-camels that bore food and tents and 
gurgling water-skins and, cunningly bound with 
palm-leaf ropes, Tistraya’s treasures for the King 
whose Star they followed. 

It drew towards evening. The shadows of the 
tall palms by the river bank stretched themselves 
across the muddy road. The flocks on the upper 
slopes slowly cropped their way to the fold where 
all would mingle for the night, the shouts of the 
shepherds softened by distance to a plaintive 
note. Out on the river rafts and strange round 
coracles, laden with wool and grain for the far 
East, were drawing up for the night, here where 
the mud- brick walls of a tiny village shone golden- 
3 


4 


THE LOST STAR 


brown in the level rays of the sun. Towards the 
west the whole green plain stretched like an 
emerald carpet, broken by a diamond flash where 
some great canal bore still waters to the thirsty 
fields. 

Selim rode up to his master’s side : “ Doth it 
please thee, O Wise One, to rest here for the 
night ? ” 

Tistraya eyed him with a flash of anger. The 
slave was old, a white-haired man. His face was 
seamed and puckered with a thousand wrinkles 
and burnt by a thousand suns ; but out from under 
his white eyebrows looked a pair of kindly, wise 
old eyes. He waited for au answer while the two 
tall dromedaries swung along side by side. 

^‘Thoii knowest,” came the curt word, “we 
ride till I see the Star, and follow on till dark- 
ness hides the road.” 

The old man bowed his head and fell behind. 
The camel driver was singing to himself, an end- 
less song in a whining voice. Off to the west, 
beyond the silver river, beyond the green plain, 
beyond the vague gray line of the desert, the sun 
sank in flaming splendor out of sight, leaving a 
wondrous sky of rose color. Slowly the rose 
deepened into purple, the purple into the meas- 
ureless blue of the night ; and the stars came out, 
and shone in the deep blue like golden lamps. 

The Wise Man grew uneasy. His eyes were 
fixed on the western sky, and he seemed to be 
waiting for something. Behind him old Selim 
rode silent. Suddenly Tistraya turned his head. 


5 


THE LOST STAR 


‘‘Selim ! ’’ he called. 

The slave rode up to his side. 

“ Selim, the Star is not there ! 

“Not there, O my master? 

“ Nay, not there ! Canst thou see it ? 

“O Wisest,” said Selim humbly, “such sight 
is only for the wise.” 

“I know not ” began the Wise Man. 

“ What village was that back yonder ? ” 

“ A little mud town, lord, and the caravanserai 
a heap of ruins. But there is a noble spring not 
far ahead. . . . 

Tistraya studied the sky, his forehead wrinkled. 
Then he nodded : “Spread thou the tents there.” 

That night he sat by the fire before his tent 
door, deep in thought. Selim, as one long priv- 
ileged, sat opposite, mute as the stars above. 
The sudden cry of a jackal in the distance, an- 
swered by the shrieking of the pack, stirred the 
Wise Man. He looked across the fire at the old 
slave and spoke in a troubled voice : 

“ Of the Star ... I know not why, 
when all the lights of heaven blaze, it alone 
shineth not.’^ 

“O my master,” said Selim, “thou art wise, 

and I but the dust under thy feet ; but Why 

journey we thus apart from thy brothers? ” 

Tistraya answered with some spirit in his voice, 
“And shall I not, in my wisdom, follow what 
road pleaseth me ? ” 

The slave bowed his head and answered meekly : 
“ We follow the Star — whither ? ” 



“ Thou kuowest. To find the Child born King 
of the Jews.^^ 

And we go whither the Star leadeth ? 

Even so.’^ 

“And thou hast seen it nightly since we set 
out?” 

“ Even so, and journeyed by it evening and 
morning. 

The old slave threw some dried dung upon the 
fire. The sparks flew up in a red stream, and 
the smoke followed. He watched it curling up- 
ward, and spoke in a hesitating voice. 

“Thy foot is on my neck, O Tistraya ; yet will 
I speak, being thy slave. Conld there be that in 
thy heart that blinds thine eyes to the Star ? ” 

The Wise Man drew himself up, fire in his 
eyes. The slave looked him full in the face, and 
the Wise Man’s eyes fell. At length he spoke, 
in a subdued voice ; 

“Thou art the Wise Man, O Selim ! Thou 
hast said. It was for mine own glory I left the 
others, that I might reach the goal before them.” 

Selim said nothing. He merely waited, his 
eyes fixed on the red heart of the fire. 

“An hour before daybreak,” said the master, 
“we return to the ferry. It maybe the Star 
will shine once more for us.” 


In the dark before dawn the little caravan 
went back along the way it had come. Ever and 
again as he rode, Tistraya looked out towards the 
west ; but though many a star shone back at him 


THE LOST STAR 


from the black sky, none was the Star he 
^ sought. 

j The first gleam of silver was outlining the 
^ mountain ridge to the east when they came to 
' the ancient ferry. They roused the heavy-eyed 
ferryman from his hut, and led their protesting 
‘ camels aboard the raft. Slowly the ferryman, 
pulling along the rope that ran from bank to 
bank, drew them across the current. Once out 
in the stream, Tistraya raised his eyes to the 
western sky, fast blushing into day, and stood 
transfixed. 

“ The Star, Selim ! he gasped. 

A little later, mounting his kneeling beast on 
J the western bank of Tigris, — ‘‘ Well-nigh a day’s 
I journey lost,” he said sadly to the slave. “ It is 
j clear that none can see this Star who cast over 
i their eyes the veil of self-glorying.” 

“O my master,” said Selim at his stirrup, 
^Ms a day’s journey too high a price to pay for 
such wisdom ? ” 


S O they went, past many a town and village 
dotting the plain between the two great 
rivers ; over many a canal ; past many a creaking 
water-wheel singing of rich crops to come ; and 
so across the Euphrates. And ever, as the sun 
set and again before it rose, the great Star shone 
out, brighter than all the wheeling planets, and 
ever beckoned them on. Thus, along the yellow 
river with its fringe of reeds and endless row of 


8 


THE LOST STAR 


tall feathery palms, till they came to a caravan- 
serai set near the crumbling mounds that once 
had been the palaces of Babylon. 

It was a small matter — as men count ; merely 
this, that when, towards the heat of the day, 
the caravanserai received them, they found an- 
other caravan within the great brick-walled court- 
yard. Persians they were, rich merchants from 
the rose-fragrant vale of Shiraz ; and with them, 
women. Tistraya, seated in the upper gallery, 
after the midday meal, saw them. One, lift- 
ing her veil, smiled upon him, a strange, allur- 
ing smile. His heart beat faster, and he won- 
dered, for he had had no eye for the beauty of 
women ; but this woman— he sat dreaming, and 
hoped she would pass again. Selim came and 
spoke. ^‘It was time to be on their way,” he 
said. And Tistraya felt the warm blood mount to 
his cheeks as he answered that it was early ; they 
would wait an hour. The hour passed ; and still, 
while Selim and the camel driver sat in the shade 
of the arch below, they waited. At length the 
woman came ; and as she passed, she smiled again 
upon him, and so descended the stairs. When 
the long string of laden camels had filed out at 
the great doorway, Tistraya woke from his dream- 
ing, and hastily went down. They mounted and 
rode on their way. Before them, in the distance, 
the caravan of the Persians wound in serpentine 
train along the road. 

There be robbers on this road,^’ said Tistraya. 

We will join the Persians yonder.” 


THE LOST STAR 


9 

As thou sayest, O my father ; but didst thou 
not say in the Bactrian Mountains that we were 
safe in the hand of the Giver of Light ? 

There was no answer. Faster they went, the 
dromedaries lengthening their stride at the cluck 
of their riders. 

“ They are taking the eastern road where the 
way divides,” said Selim at length. 

“A safer road,” said the Wise Man shortly, 
eyes on the caravan before them. “ We too will 
take the eastern way.” And when the Persians 
at last were caught up with, Tistraya rode with 
the merchants, at the head, and Selim and the 
camel driver fell into place in the long train. 

That night, when the stars shone out, the one 
Star did not shine. When the caravan halted, 
Selim made ready his master’s tent and spread 
his rugs in silence. Ror did the Wise Man speak 
for a time, but stood before the tent, gazing west- 
ward over the dimness of fields and distant desert. 
At last he turned. It was as if he had suddenly 
awakened from an evil dream ; and when he spoke, 
his voice was low and troubled. 

“ The Star is not there.” 

''No, lord.” 

"Are we many hours from the parting of the 
ways back yonder? ” 

" But two, lord, if we travel swiftly.” 

" We will go back. Take down the tents.” 

Thus in the night, under the stars, they left the 
astonished Persians standing by their tents, and 



lO 


THE LOST STAR 


reached the parting of the roads, they spread their 
tents. Tistraya, as he faced the east and prayed 
before his tent-door asked of the Giver of Light the 
boon of a pure heart ; and turning, saw the Star 
he sought burning steadily in the western sky. 

“ Selim, we have lost a second day’s journey. 
“True, lord ; and gained wisdom thereby.” 

“ So ? What wisdom ? ” 

“ That the soiled mirror will not send back the 
rays of a Star, lord.” 

T he days passed. They met now and then a 
caravan, slow moving to the accompaniment 
of the curses of drivers, the grunts and snarls of 
camels, the tinkle of bells. Past them, lazily drift- 
ing down to the mystic east, floated an endless pro- 
cession of rafts and boats laden deep with wool and 
grain and hides. And now they came to Car- 
chemish, and at the khan heard news of the other 
Wise Men. They had passed two days before. 
Tistraya the Wise felt his cheeks burn under his 
beard when Selim told him. 

A week later they lost a third day ; and thus 
it happened : — They had left the palm-fringed 
river and struck into the gray and barren wastes 
of the desert. The road wound between the 
hillocks, the salt crust crumbling and slither- 
ing away under the camels’ feet. And here, in 
the heart of the wilds, their way led past the low 
red-black tents of an Arab encampment. From 
the distance they saw the children standing look- 


ing their way, eyes shaded by a hand, and as they 
drew near, a little maid disappeared into a tent 
and came forth bearing a bowl of lebben. She 
stood waiting for them, lithe brown body glisten- 
ing in the sun, white teeth gleaming in a smile, 
slender arms holding aloft the bowl for the 
parched travellers. But Tistraya took no note 
of her. Selim pressed his camel forward. 

‘‘Wilt thou refresh thyself, lord?’’ he asked. 

Tistraya shook his head. “ Nay,” said he im- 
patiently, and with the same breath urged his 
dromedary on. Selim kept by his side. 

“The little maiden yonder hath made ready 
lebben for thee,” he ventured. 

“And what, O Wise Selim, is a little maid 
with a bowl of curdled milk compared with the 
following of the Star ? ” 

And Selim bowed his head. “Thou knowest, 
lord,” he said, and fell back. 

And the little maid by the roadside ceased to 
smile, lowered the bowl of lebben, and stood thus, 
tears on her cheeks and wonder in her eyes as 
they passed from view. 

That night, when the stars came forth through 
the fading purple of the western sky, the one 
Star did not shine. Tistraya looked in vain ; and 
as the darkness deepened his pace slackened, 
until he halted at last and turned a stricken face 
to his slave. 

“I know not what ” Tistraya ceased 

speaking as a sudden thought struck him. Again 
he felt that shamed rising of the blood into his 


cheeks, and he began again in a different tone : 

‘‘The little Arab maid ” he said, and turned 

his camel about ; and Selim and the driver, with 
the weary caravan, followed him back to where 
the Arab tents showed black against the sands. 

They spent the night with the Arabs, and the 
little maid, bringing again her bowl of lebben, 
— and coming with timid feet, — found her gift 
taken gladly, with such thanks from the lordly 
stranger as made her flee to the women^s part of 
the tent in wild embarrassment. Before the dawn 
Tistraya saw again the Star, and went upon his 
way. 

“He who follows the Star,” said he to Selim 
at the noon-hour, ‘ ‘ must have a kindly heart. ” 

“ Thou art wise, lord,” said Selim the slave. 



FEW more dreary days upon the desert, 


J~\, and now the road broke through bare high 
hills guarded by towering tombs, and Palmyra, 
like a huge pearl set in a cluster of emeralds, lay 
before them. Through the crowded streets, past 
creaking wagons, piled high with silks and purple 
wool ; asses laden with skins of precious unguents 
from Arabia; camel trains with olive oil from 
Palestine. . . . So to the khan. 

And in the court, behold, a magician plying 
his arts before a gaping, credulous* crowd. 
While Selim and the driver cared for the camels 
and stored the precious freight in one of the 
warerooms under the wall, Tistraya watched the 


THE LOST STAR 


13 

trickster j and as he watched, contempt for the 
man and the crowd filled his heart. What was 
this bungling to what he had seen and learned in 
the far East ? What fools were these, duped by 
such tricks ! Before he thought, he spoke : 

“Take thy cheap tricks to the tent dwellers, 
friend. 

The magician eyed him shrewdly, noted the tall 
cap, the white dress, and knew him for what he 
was. He bowed smoothly and smiled. 

“The pupil is silent before the master,” he 
said. “ Show us wonders from the East, O Wise 
One.'’ 

Tistraya smiled in contempt. “I? In thy 
trade ? ” 

The other turned to the crowd. “He is not 
what I thought,” he sneered. “He knows not 
the mighty demons I know.” 

It was not very subtle, but the taunt was 
enough ; and Selim, coming from the wareroom 
to wait upon the master, found him seated like 
a mountebank, plying the ancient arts and de- 
ceptions of the East, while the crowd exclaimed 
with astonishment and rapture. In the midst of 
it, Tistraya’ s eye caught that of his old slave, out 
on the edge of the squatting crowd. The magic 
ended, suddenly. The Wise Man rose to his 
feet, and without a word turned and left his au- 
dience, and Selim followed to the upper gallery, 
where the master ate his butter and rice in silence. 

That night he could not see the Star. They 
were far on their way when night fell. The sky 





s 


14 


THE LOST STAR 



was clear, and filled with stars ; but the one Star 
did not shine. No word was said when at last 
the Wise Man, with head bowed, turned his 
dromedary back towards the city gate. 

They slept that night in the same khan ; but 
when Selim called the Wise Man in the early 
morning, and they went down into the dim 
court, Tistraya halted suddenly. 

would see the keeper of the khan,” he 

said. 

When Selim brought him, Tistraya spoke 
quietly. “Friend,” he said, “I have a burden 
to lay upon thee. Thou sawest me yesternoon in 
the court here, working wonders 1 ” 

“Wonders indeed, lord ! ” the man exclaimed. 
“All men talk of them.” 

Tistraya hesitated, then faced the man squarely. 
“They were no wonders,” he said clearly ; “all 
lies ! Tricks ! I know no demons ; I serve the 
Giver of Light in the heavens. I bid thee make 
this known to all within thy house.” 

And a moment later, out in the broad street, 
facing the west, Tistraya saw the Star he sought, 
still a steady fiame in the waxing light. 

“He who follows the Star,” said Tistraya, 
soberly, “must deal in truth, and crush down 
pride. We have lost four days.” 

“But we are four days wiser, lord,” said 
Selim, the slave. 



THE LOST STAR 


15 


T hey came to Damascus. Through groves 
of luscious shade j past the potters^ shops, 
with yards filled with great gaily-ringed water 
jars baking in the sun j across the river where 
women in the pebbly shallows knelt and splashed 
at the washing, where great water-wheels, trick- 
ling with sparkling drops, groaned and creaked 
at their blessed endless labor ; up through packed 
streets where the dyer hung by the wall his wet 
blue cloth, fresh from the vat, where the sweet- 
meat vender smiled and jested, where the air blew 
warm and pungent from the spice dealer’s over 
the way j through a crowd of men of all races and 
colors and garments under the sun ; so they came 
to their khan, in the heart of the city. 

A bare four days ahead of them the caravan 
of the Magi had passed. So they learned from 
the keeper of the khan ; and Tistraya, hearing, 
ate but little of the steaming supper that came to 
him on a great brass tray, and scarce slept for 
the shame that filled his soul. 

He rose before daybreak. Below in the court- 
yard he heard the voices of Selim and the camel 
driver, talking to the surly beasts on whom their 
precious freight, safely locked away for the 
night, was now being strapped and tied. Tis- 
traya went down. The two men turned as he 
greeted them. There was a moment’s silence ; 
then Selim spoke : 

“ Lord, the little chest with the gold cup 


i6 THE LOST STAR 

“What of itr^ 

“ We cauDot find it, lord. It may be in ” 

The Wise Man did not wait to hear — a wakeful 
night and an uneasy conscience had not calmed 
his mind. He turned on the camel driver with 
a look of fury. 

“ Thief ! ’’ he said. “ Thou hast it ! ” 

“Nay, lord,” said Selim ; “he and I together 
did ” 

“Hold thy tongue!” shouted Tistraya, and 
snatched the camel-stick from the driver and laid 
it about his shoulders. The man cowered, arms 
covering his head. Out from the darkness men 
suddenly appeared, drawn by the shouts and the 
sound of blows. 

“ A magistrate ! ” cried the Wise Man ; “fetch 
a magistrate ! I am robbed, robbed by this son 
of a desert jackal ! ” 

All in vain did the man protest j in vain did 
Selim beg and plead ; when the caravan went 
westward through the streets of Damascus, a new 
camel driver walked before his train. The man 
who had led Tistraya’s camels from the far East 
lay in chains in a cell. What was the word of 
such against the word of such as Tistraya? 

The early sunlight painted the snow-topped 
mountains to the west a warm rose color as the 
caravan emerged from the city, on the road 
towards the south. The stars had faded from 
the pale sky long before they had set out ; but 
that mattered not, said Tistraya again and again 
to himself,— it mattered not about the Star j it 


THE LOST STAR 


17 


would shiue out towards evening. On they 
swung, to the grunt of the camels and the tinkle 
of bells, past field and orchard. The hills grew 
higher before them, long slopes covered with 
gnarled oak, here and there a thicket of juniper 
or wild pear. They rested at noon under a great 
oak by a tiny stream. Then on, till the shadows 
lengthened and deepened, the air grew cool, the 
sun went down suddenly behind the mountains, 
and the stars shone out. And Tistraya, as he 
rode on, felt his heart sink within him. The one 
Star did not shine. Still on and on he went, till 
at length a little village hugging the hillside 
above a brimming spring bade them halt. Single 
file the camels turned in at the gate of the cara- 
vanserai, and, snarling and complaining, knelt to 
be unloaded. 

Through the shadows came Selim to his master, 
knelt, and laid upon the stones at his feet a cedar 
casket. And Tistraya the Wise, looking down 
upon him, felt his tongue cleave to the roof of his 
mouth. Words came to him at last ; 

‘‘Make ready, thou. We return.’^ 

“In the morning, lord,’' said Selim, rising to 
his feet. 

“ Nay, now,” came the answer in a thick voice. 

Back through the hills led the road. Jackals 
shrieked and jeered from a hillside ; an owl 
hooted his reproaches from the black shadow 
of the forest; the streams as they forded them 
tinkled a reproof ; the very trees seemed to sigh 



THE 



LOST STAR 


at tliem iu the chill night wind. Faster and 
faster Tistraya urged his protesting dromedary. 
The hours passed j the darkness deepened ; the 
stars faded ; a band of pale sky appeared in the 
east; and through the streets of Damascus, 
waking heavily to a new day, the Wise Man with 
his weary train came back to the khan they had 
left the morn before. 

A word to the astonished porter; a walk 
through a narrow, high- walled street, and with 
much pounding upon an iron-bound door and 
parleying with servants, the magistrate came out, 
rubbing his eyes and voluble with oaths. The 
thieving camel driver ! Sold. His master ? 
How should he know ? Was he paid to know 
the name of every shrewd Armenian who bought 
a slave in Damascus ? An Armenian ! Had he 
not said so ? . . . 

Selim whispered in his master’s ear. From a 
servant he had learned all that was needful. The 
Armenian had left at dawn the day before on his 
way back to his wool warehouse at Van. The old 
slave drew back and waited, while the Wise Man 
stared at him with dismayed, unseeing eyes. 
. . . Van,— a month’s journey and more 

away — unless they could catch up with the 
caravan. . . . 


So the pursuit began. Out from under the cool 
shade of Damascus’ green orchards the way 
stretched to the north, now a bare track across the 
brown sands, now a stony road winding through 


a mountain defile, now across a broad plain where 
great herds of horses browsed. By the bank of a 
certain mountain torrent they found another cara- 
van encamped, awaiting the fall of fiood waters ; 
but the wool merchant had crossed before the 
sudden floods came. Here they lost another eight 
days. 

Each morning as it dawned found Tistraya 
pacing the high bank, watching the swirling 
waters. The men of the other caravan shrugged 
their shoulders when they came forth to their 
morning meal and marked his impatience. 

Is not thy master one of the Wise Men of the 
East ? ” one would ask Selim. 

^^That is the truth. 

“ Methinks wisdom would be wiser to sit by 
the fire as we sit and await the day heaven hath 
set for the falling of the waters.” 

And Selim, chafing inwardly like his master at 
the delay, could find no answer but a tart one : 

Then were Wisdom and Folly seated together, 
in truth.” 

Over at last, and on, past the brown tents of 
Arabs, past town and village, while the moun- 
tains thrust their snow-crowned peaks high across 
the northern sky. And ever as they went the 
wool merchant, with the new-made slave in his 
caravan, was still before them. A burning sun 
beat down upon them by dayj but the nights 
grew long and chill. They came at length to the 
snow-strewn aisles of the great beech forests and 
knew that they had reached the mountains of 


ArmeDia. Deeper and deeper lay the drifted 
snow, higher and higher stretched the somber 
wooded slopes, shorter and shorter grew the hours 
of daylight. Ever the way climbed upward aud 
grew rougher and more difficult ; and always the 
eyes of Tistraya the Wise held to the road, grave 
and steadfast ; and Selim, his hands tucked into 
his long sleeves, watched aud said nothing. Thus, 
rounding the slope of a great mountain, they saw 
one day a sheet of deepest blue cradled far below, 
aud at its edge the white roofs of a city j and so 
came to Van. 

Before nightfall their business was settled. 
They found the wool merchant at his warehouse 
under the shadow of the citadel j and while they 
sat over a grateful charcoal fire the slave was 
bought and freed. He fell at the feet of the Wise 
Man, who bade him stand and, when he stood, 
looked him in the face. 

“It is I who should fall at thy feet, O Yusuf, 
he said ; “ for I have done thee wrong. 

That night was spent in the house of the wool 
merchant. From the guest-chamber on the roof 
Tistraya stepped forth into the darkness. Dim 
and shadowy above the sleeping city the mass of 
the mountains rose, narrowing the heavens ; 
but off to the southward, where the road led 
back through the defile, low in the rift a great 
Star shone. . . . 

“We have lost more days than one may easily 
count, said the Wise Man sadly to his slave, as 
they set out in the chill dawn. 


21 




THE LOST 


^‘But we are wiser, lord,” said old Selim. 
“Just indeed must be the eyes that see the 
Star.” 


I F the way north had been slow, the way back 
proved slower far. The melting snows had 
filled the bed of every stream and held them, chaf- 
ing, on the bank for many a weary day. The 
mud, lying deep on the roads, slowed their pace 
still more ; and late spring had changed to sum- 
mer and summer had well-nigh passed ere the 
little caravan caught sight of the orchards and 
towers of Damascus. 

The road lay clear before them now. Through 
the purple dawn and the soft dusk the Star shone 
out for them. If Tistraya ever wondered whether 
they were not too late, he kept the disturbing 
thought to himself. After all, would not the in- 
fant King still live ? So they drove ever south- 
ward, day after day, across the bed of Pharpar, 
along the tumbling, foaming waters of upper 
Jordan, circling the waving reeds of the marshes 
of Merom, and on, eager as the river beside them. 

It was then — they had forded the Jordan the 
night before— that Selim was taken with the 
marsh fever. They found him huddled over the 
fire, eyes burning, face drawn, his body shaken 
as by palsy. And Tistraya, without a glance 
towards the south, where the Star hung in the 
deep sky, wrapped the old slave in a greatcoat 
and laid him on his own soft rugs. Through 


22 


THE LOST STAR 


the night he sat by him, wetting the parched 
lips, answering delirious mutterings with gentle 
words. 

In the morning they moved him as far as the 
nearest village. Here, in the one bare room of 
the guest house, they took up their abode. 

From their homes the women of the place 
brought healing herbs for the sick man; and 
Tistraya the Wise thanked them in the name of 
the Giver of Light, and from leaves and roots 
brewed a potent febrifuge. Daily there came to 
the door a certain villager with food for man and 
beast. He and Tistraya talked often together 
while the Wise Man watched over the fire and 
stirred the seething pot; and however the talk 
started, it veered ever to one thing. Was there 
a new-born King of the Jews? The man had 
heard nothing of any king, he said, save Caesar. 
Tistraya knit his brows. 

“ Your Scriptures,^’ he asked, they prophesy 
of such a King?” 

a truth, lord. ‘Messiah,’ he is called, 
the Hope of Israel.” 

“He is born,” said Tistraya. 

“Kay, lord; if he were born, how would 
Caesar’s publicans still be laying grievous taxes 
on Galilee? ” 

And the Wise Man, rising, would take his 
brew from the fire and go to the side of Selim, 
there to sit with troubled, anxious brow. Caring 
for the old slave, he forgot to count the days. 

A month and more had passed when, one 



clear understandiDg. 

“Lord,’^ he whispered weakly, ^^ord, how 

lODg V’ 

But Tistraya only smiled and shook his head. 

“ Lord, I have held thee back. . . . Leave 
me, I pray thee, and go. . . 


K Then Selim smiled back at him a tremulous 
S smile. 

tl Lord,^’ he said, ‘‘he that hath the wisdom of 

H such love is nearing the Star. . . 

J T Then he was strong enough to renew the 
H VV journey they set forth. Down from the 

H north the highway wound towards the Sea of 

■ Galilee, whose waters lay like a sapphire with 

I white- walled cities like pearls set about it. Twi- 

■ light fell, and the Star shone forth, hanging low 

j over a rounded hill where, white above dark 

I clustered roofs, rose the stately marble syna- 

I gogue of Capernaum. 

I They slept in a huge, bustling khan in the 
1 heart of the city, where the clack of sandals and 
J hoofs and the clatter of voices — men meeting 
here from many roads — never ceased throughout 
J the night. At the first sign of day, Tistraya, 
I from the roof, saw a strange sight. For the Star, 
I which had led him southward now so long, hung 
I low over the darkness of the hills to the west, 
I beckoning him thitherward. Hastily he went 


fj 


ri 





down to the court of the khan. To the 
“Shalom^’ of the first man he met in the dim 
light he returned a hasty greeting and an eager 
query : 

Tell me, O friend, what great city lieth be- 
yond the hills to the west ? 

The man halted, hesitated, and smiled. 
“ Great city, sayest thou? Why, till thou come 
to the seacoast, none greater than Sepphoris and 
Nazareth.^ ^ 

‘‘Sepphoris? Nazareth ?^^ the Wise Man re- 
peated, doubtfully; “I know them not. Of 
Jerusalem I know, and of this noble city of 
Capernaum ; but these . . . Tell me, where 
shall I find the child born King of the Jews ? 

The man stared. “King of the Jews, — our 
King ? The child ? 

“Aye, born some months since,” Tistraya 
urged. “ I have seen his Star, and I have come 
to worship him.’^ 

The man laughed, with a bitter ring in his 
voice, 
master. 

“Nay, it must be. The Star could not lie. 
And westward . . . Nazareth. . . .” 

“Ho, ho!^^ cried the stranger. “Dost not 
know the proverb ? ‘ Can any good thing come 

out of Nazareth ? ^ Jerusalem, it may be, or 
Bethlehem, David’s own city, and thou wilt have 
Scripture at thy back there. But Nazareth ! A 
mere village, here in these northern hills ! ” 

Tistraya looked at him with troubled eyes. “ I 


“ Thou hast come a mad journey, my 
We have no king but Caesar.” 





THE LOST STAR 


25 

had thought to find him in Jerusalem/^ he said 
slowly. 

The man nodded as he prepared to move on his 
way across the court. ‘‘If there be any King, 
he is there,” he said briskly ; and added over his 
shoulder as he turned, “ Ask thou of the rabbis 
in the synagogue. Mayhap they can guide thee. 
The Lord be with thee. ” And he was gone. 

A frugal breakfast Over, Tistraya stood at the 
great gate of the khan and gazed doubtfully up 
the sloping street. Before him, beyond the rows 
of little shops that seemed to crowd and jostle 
each other to gain a sure foothold on the street, 
beyond the larger houses of the rich, rising in the 
somber dignity of their walls of basalt, rose the 
white majesty of the synagogue, Capernaum^ s 
pride, glistening in the level rays of the early 
sun. The Wise Man stepped forth into the street. 

Despite the hour, the doors of the great syna- 
gogue were open, and in the cool shadow of the 
great room a rabbi sat before a low desk, a 
parchment scroll unrolled across it. He rose to 
greet the stranger. Tistraya’s errand was soon 
told, and eagerly the learned doctor bent to 
the solving of his riddle. Out from the carven 
case behind the curtain he brought the sacred 
scrolls. Quickly he pointed out a passage and 
rested his long finger upon it. 

The Wise Man bent forward to read : 

“But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou 
be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out 
of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be 





ruler in Israel ; whose goings forth have been, 
from of old, from everlasting.^’ 

He read it carefully, once and again. 

“ And this,” he asked, ^^concerueth the King 
who was promised ? ” 

The rabbi nodded gravely. 

The Wise Man’s brow was troubled. “I have 
read it before,” he said ; “yet — the Star — it lay 
in the west this very morning. ” 

A smile curled the lips of the rabbi under his 
beard. 

“ O friend,” — his tone was the patronizing one 
of a superior scholar, — “wouldst thou contra- 
dict the Scriptures of God ? Thou dost profess 
wisdom : were it not the better part for thee to 
follow the Word rather than the leading of thy 
vaunted astrology ? ” 

Tistraya flushed and rose to his feet. “Even 
so,” he said brusqdely. “ Thou hast said.” 

Back in the court of the khan the little caravan 
was waiting. Tistraya mounted his dromedary, 
and the ungainly beast rose and stepped forward. 

“Whither, lord?” asked old Selim at the 
parting of the roads outside the city. Yonder 
the way led up over the hills to the west ; and 
here, the way to the south, where lay Jerusalem 
upon her holy hills. 

“ To the south,” said Tistraya. 

A white mist hung over the lake along whose 
shore the rock-hewn highway led. Up on the 
hill, in the vague light, a flock of goats showed 



THE LOST STAR 


like a black shiftiag shadow ; their bleating an- 
swered the tinkle of the camels’ bells. 

Row the way led down the bare, rocky slope 
and skirted the little plain of Geunesaret, nestled 
under the frowning hills. Beside them, high 
over the stony bank, hung feathered palms, 
their slender trunks lining the shore in a long, 
unbroken row. Out on the plain they caught 
glimpses of low-roofed villages, half-hiddeu un- 
der the green of orchards. Here and there, by 
the wayside, blushed a thicket of oleander, just 
bursting into a pink glory against the green and 
black of the fields beyond. Out on the lake the 
mist had risen in shreds and wisps of white that, 
softly vanishing, revealed a fleet of fishing boats 
resting idly on the blue waters. The harsh rat- 
tle of a kingfisher broke the silence. 

So they went southward j and as they went, 
Tistraya turned not his head to right or left, but 
looked straight before him, and rode as one who 
is afraid what he shall find. They rested, while 
the sun was at its height, by a spring in the val- 
ley at the foot of the lake ; but the Wise Man 
ate his midday meal in moody silence and urged 
them on their way. They were far to the south 
when night fell. Quickly the cool shadows slid 
across the valley, the setting sun tipped the east- 
ern mountains with gold ; then came, suddenly, 
the dark, and the stars shining out above. And 
Tistraya, the fear that had been his companion 
all the day now clutching at his heart, lifted his 
eyes. The one Star did not shine. 



28 


THE LOST STAR 


In the dark hour before dawn of the next day 
the little caravan woke the porter and entered 
again the gates of the khan at Capernaum. 
Through the night, reckless of the robbers of 
Magdala or of aught else, Tistraya had ridden 
madly northward. It was only after they had 
unsaddled and fed their weary beasts that, 
with Selim at his heels, he climbed the stone 
stairway to the roof and gazed out into the west. 
Low over the hills hung the blazing Star. 

‘‘ O Selim, said the Wise Man, ‘^he that fol- 
loweth the Star must trust the Star above all else, 
or he is blind ! 

“Thou art wise, lord,” said Selim. 

They rested till noon was past, — a scant few 
hours for so tired a company — before Tistraya 
roused men and beasts for the westward journey. 
Up into the hills he led the way. Now the road 
ran over a rocky crest, bare and brown, where 
the broom was just budding into green ; now it 
passed through some long sweeping valley, where 
a bare legged farmer, skirts tucked in girdle, 
followed his slow-moving oxen across the black 
earth ; now it skii ted a long slope to the north- 
ward, where a great olive grove stretched away 
to the sky ; and now, edged by straggling haw- 
thorns, it led through broad pasture lands dotted 
with herds of dun cattle. The road grew rougher 
as the hills grew higher ; but Tistraya did not 
slacken. It was only the entreaty of the old 
slave that won for all a rest and an early evening 


meal at a little house under au oak by the way- 
side. The farmer whose hospitality they sought 
was slow and stupid. Eepeated urgiugs only 
seemed to make him slower. Food he brought, 
but seemed to be bewildered. 

“Haste thee, haste ! ” cried the Wise Man. 

“Lord,” began old Selim at his ear j but Tis- 
traya cut him off. 

“Sawest ever so slow an oxl Night will be 
on us ere we reach the place ! ” 

“But, lord, he ...” 

“But, slave, he is a plodding ass in a man^s 
skin ! Come, let us be gone ! ” 

Evening was falling on the hills as they pressed 
on their way. Off to the south Tabor rose 
against the darkening sky ; beyond, more moun- 
tains, fading away in purple distance. It was, 
somehow, not so much the Star as Nazareth on 
which Tistraya now fixed his mind. Down into a 
valley went the road, and past a village whose dogs 
followed, barking fiercely, as the caravan pushed 
on over the shoulder of the hill. Tistraya was 
sure, now, that Nazareth sheltered the child ; the 
Star pointed that way. . . . They topped 

the hill, and for the first time since leaving the 
little inn, he looked up for the Star. It was not 
there. 

With a grunt Tistraya’s dromedary halted at a 
sudden word and a blow upon his neck. Selim 
rode to his master’s side, wondering. 

“The Star . . 

And Selim understood. He looked into the 



THE LOST STAR 

downcast, troubled face of the Wise Man, and 
spoke: “Lord, the farmer whom thou didst 
abuse, — his wife lieth grievously ill.’^ 

“ O Selim,” said Tistraya the Wise, as they 
went back over the hills, “ how blind a fool is he 
who, seeking the Star, sees not the troubles of his 
neighbor ! Yet another day hath folly cost me ! ” 
“Lord,” came the old slaveys voice through 
the darkness, “ verily, thou art learning to see ! 


T he winter sun was high when they came, the 
morning after, to a little plain encircled by 
rolling hills, and saw, climbing the far steep 
slope, the terraced walls of Nazareth. Across 
the plain, between bare black fields and gardens, 
they followed the road to the town. Out from 
under the hill welled a spring, whose waters fell 
splashing into a great stone trough and, running 
over, trickled to the ground. Women were com- 
ing down from the town, waterpot on head ; 
children splashed about in the pool below the 
fountain, and stopped to look as the strange car- 
avan drew near, then, shouting, left their play to 
follow after. Before the door of his house a 
carpenter sat upon the ground, a heavy ox-yoke 
between his knees, golden shavings covering the 
ground about him. A woman sat in the door- 
way, and on her knees a child, both with wide 
eyes fixed upon the strange caravan. 

Tistraya checked his dromedary. 

“Peace to thee, O my brother.” 





The man laid aside his work and rose to bis 
feet. 


‘ ^ And to thee, O my father. 

“Have ye a khan in the town ? ^ ^ 

The Nazareue pointed up the winding street. 

“Yonder is the guest-house,’^ he said ; “bide 
ye there and I will fetch your midday meal.” 

The Wise Man’s eyes were upon the mother 
and her child, and he scarce seemed to listen for 
the answer to his question. Instead, he looked 
down and asked another : 

“Friend, knowest thou aught of a child born 
King of the Jews — well-nigh a year ago ? ” 

The man turned a startled face to the woman 
in the doorway. She smiled a quiet smile. 

“He is one of them,” she said to the man. 

He looked, and nodded briefly. He answered 
the stranger cautiously, “What wouldst thou 
with such a child 1 ’ ’ 

Tistraya answered simply, “I saw his Star, and 
have come to worship him. But I have been long 
on the way. ... I am late. . . .” 

“Thou art not too late,” spoke the clear soft 
voice of the woman. “ This is the Child.” 

The Wise Man on his dromedary looked and 
looked, with not a word to say. Then, suddenly, 
the women and children gathering in the street 
beheld a strange thing. They saw the drome- 
daries kneel ; saw their strangely garbed riders 
hastily dismount ; saw ropes untied with eager 
fingers, bales and chests unwrapped, unlocked, 
and spread ; and there, in the dust of the street. 



32 


THE LOST STAR 


at the door-step of Joseph’s house, knelt the Wise 
Mail aud laid before the babe iu its mother’s 
arms gifts, — gold, aud fraukiuceuse, and myrth. 
. , . Aud the child stretched out his chubby 

bauds towards the pretty thiugs aud crowed with 
delight. • . • 

I R the cool eveniug Tistraya sat before the fire 
iu the guest-house of Nazareth. His eyes were 
fixed on the heart of the coals. For a long while 
he sat thus, silent. At length he turned to the 
old slave by his side. 

“ O Selim, great is the folly of the wise ! ” 
Lord,” said Selim, “ thou art truly wise.” 
Tistraya shook his head. “I? Nay ; have I 
not been learning mine own follies now these 
many months?” 

‘‘Then, lord,” said Selim, “art thou surely 
growing wise I” 


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